Willie Mack is my maternal grandfather, more well-known as Ozella’s husband. He’s been dead for many years, but the general consensus is that he was a real character. So can you just imagine what kind of person old Mack told stories about back in his day? Just like I have a nutty, deceased grandfather I enjoy writing about, Mack had a nutty aunt about whom his family liked to tell stories. Knowing what you know about Mack (who used to have fisticuffs with his wife that ended with him being shot and stabbed by his beloved), just imagine how crazy someone would have to be for HIM to consider that person worthy of a fireside story. Well, he had one such relative. Her name was Eualer.

First, I have to explain the name. I just LOVE unusual names. Your comments that included all of your unusual family names cracked me up.

Aunt Eualer’s name was a mistake. Her parents wanted to give her a name that was considered old fashioned even for those days, Eulalie (YEW-lah-lee). But my ancestors weren’t good at spelling or sounding-it-out, because they ended up naming her Eualer, pronouncing it yew-ALE-er, and sticking with the unfortunate pronunciation all her life. Poor Eualer.

I should also mention that in my family, the title “Aunt” is not pronounced “Ah-nt,” the way some fancy people do. It’s also not pronounced “Ant” the way many southerners and mid-westerners do. We pronounce it “Ain’t,” like the grammatically incorrect contraction that makes schoolteachers cringe. For example, I have an Ain’t Sue who lives in Ft. Worth, Texas.

I only know one family story about Eualer, but from that one story, I’m able to deduce that she and I have at least one very important thing in common. She and I both cannot STAND having to stop during road trips to pee. For me, it’s due to an aversion to the smells and germs associated with public restrooms. For her, I’m almost certain convenience was the main factor. I’m not sure how many public restrooms could be found along the road in the middle-of-nowhere east Texas in those days, but I think it’s fair to assume there weren’t many. But she went to greater lengths than I ever have to avoid making pit stops.

Legend has it, Eualer was gearing up for a long road trip with her family, and she knew she would never make it to her destination without stopping for a restroom break. So before she departed, she went to the kitchen, grabbed the biggest butcher knife she could find, and plunged it into the floorboard of the family car’s back seat. She cut a jagged-edged circle about the size of a coffee can lid into the floorboard.

Can you see where this story is going?

While she and her family were on the road and nature called, Eualer crawled into the back seat, pulled down her drawers, hiked up her dress, hovered over the hole, and relieved herself. Her husband never even had to slow down. I bet they made really good time.

So the next time you are driving down the road and see one of those lines of mystery fluid leaking from a random car, keep in mind that it might not be antifreeze or transmission fluid. It just might be one of my family members avoiding a bathroom break.

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And if this is you’re first visit to Momastery today, well, Urine for a treat. Don’t forget to read the poem below about Ed, and trusting yourself.

Hilarious! Now Adrianne, don't you go cutting a hole in that new car of yours! A coffee can or bucket should suffice. LOL. What a great story. Your family is a hoot. Eualer looks like a tough cookie; wouldn't want to cross her!

What a hoot! I spent four years in Oklahoma in college and had many friends with relatives with wonderful/bizarre hames and I loved it. I can still hear their voices, one of whom, my friends mother, confronted us at the breakfast table where we arrive without the benefit of sleep following a very long night drinking when she said in the classic sharp twang of the area:

"Albert, son, I seened ya come ta home without your clothes and I never said nothin, and I seened ya come home with other peoples clothes on and I even seened ya come ta home with a girls clothes on and a nevah said nerry a thing. BUT ALBERT, YOU GOT'S BEANS IN YER EARS THIS MORNING AND I JEST GOT TA SAY SOMETHIN!"

How those beans got into Al's ears is another story.

Love your stuff. And Glennon, "urine for a treat", good grief this bolg is goin to hell in a handbasket.

Love the story– and the idea that she must have been really batshit to be story-worthy for your grandfather. It reminds me of how I mourned when my husband's little brother broke up with his vegan ethnomusicologist girlfriend. She was nice enough, but what I REALLY missed was how odd she was and how much more normal I seemed in comparison. Now I'm back to being the crazy daughter-in-law.

Joey, I love the word bashit, too. But that bad word was in the first draft I sent to G. I thought better of using the S-word on this sweet blog (and I can't bear the thought of using bad language in front of Bubba), so I sent her a 2nd draft that was a little bit cleaner. I'm sorta glad, though, that she accidentally posted the original draft at first. (All of my first drafts have lots and lots of very bad words that I have to go back and fix.)

Those names are awesome. What a great story! I had a friend like that in high school. She was always so brilliant about cutting down the amount of effort involved with everything. It was actually really smart. That was a great story…and I love the word batshit.